


Thief

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 17:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Smaug tries to infiltrate the greatest smial of all.
Kudos: 43





	Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s incredibly difficult to sneak anywhere as a dragon, even though the towering halls of Erebor are far more enormous than himself, and darkness swallows almost everything. Smaug doesn’t dare to spread his wings, because even the light rustle of the wind that it would cause could be enough to give away his presence. He crawls carefully through the corridors, incredibly slowly, never daring to shift his weight until he has all four claws down. Even that slight movement could shake the ground. It doesn’t help that there are mountains of coins scattered _everywhere_, fallen remnants of the dwarves’ ancient greed. His tail slithers through them, whisper-soft. He creeps through the treasury, gently nudging jewels aside, not daring to light the sconces. He could banish the darkness with one single fiery breath, but it’s safer to squint through his black surroundings. He knows the Arkenstone will make itself visible when he finds it. He’s told it glows with an unknown power. Thorin wants its _desperately_, and Smaug wants to help his friends, though he wishes one of them had the courage to do this instead. 

He hears a noise off to his left and freezes. His blood runs colder than usual. He hears the faint humming of the sole being still alive in the mountain’s ruins. It echoes off the walls, somehow still hushed, and all the more terrifying for it. The tune sounds painfully colloquial. Smaug _hates_ it. 

He has a job to do. He reminds himself of that. He dares to squirm forward, heartbeat racing as he hurriedly displaces mounds of gems and coins, and then his snout nudges up against something soft and warm. 

Smaug instantly pulls back. A pinprick of light bursts into fruition, and the hobbit shakes off his match, blowing it out, his other hand holding up the candle. Then he turns his attention to Smaug and smiles, so sickeningly _polite._

The legendary Bilbo asks, “Ah, hello there. Would you like some tea?”

Smaug groans. Just like that, he’s caught up in a dull, stuffy bout of hobbitness that he doesn’t escape from until it’s well past six o’clock. Bilbo tells him a final riddle and sends him out the door with a friendly wave, promising to talk his ear off tomorrow should he like to come again. So Smaug leaves empty-handed.


End file.
